Chapter 14

“Hey B, what’d ya win?”

“I don’t know… how much is 22,250 in quarters?”

“Five thousand, five hundred, sixty-two dollars and fifty cents.” Xander reeled off without thinking. Three stunned faces turned to stare incredulously in his direction.

“What? So I can do math? Is it that hard to believe?” he muttered at the trio, who stood gaping at him.

“Sorry Xan… it’s just surprising… all this time you’ve teased Willow and Anya and you turn out to be a big ole geek in hiding,” Buffy giggled. “This is cause for celebration. I am renting us two of the finest suites the Bellagio has to offer and I’m thinking fine dining is in order.”

Xander and Faith eyed each other warily. “Whatever happened between the two of you, work it out, I have had a hell of a day, and I am not up for having to kill your collective asses. It's not up for debate. There’s a bar over there, go work it out while I collect my money and book us some rooms.”

Xander shrugged at Faith, then turned to follow her into the bar while Spike followed Buffy to the cashier.

“Luv, if we are staying here tonight, I would like to go pick up a few things. Why don’t I take care of that now, and I will look you up in a bit?”

She pouted, “But I won, I want to celebrate.”

“And we will, I promise you won’t be disappointed. I had a surprise or two planned before…” His eyes darkened, recalling the day’s earlier events. He gently wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him, trying to avoid her sore ribs.

“Well, ok, as long as you hurry.” He kissed her softly, nipping at her bottom lip playfully.

“I promise, I’ll be back before you know it.”

~*~*~*~

“Kitten, who did this to you?” The distinguished man struggled to control his rage at the sight of his bruised, weeping daughter.

He had pushed his way past her mother, the maid, and one of the bodyguards, furious that she had missed their annual Christmas Eve afternoon reception. The sight of her crumpled body curled in the corner, clothes torn and bloodied, had first made him wretch in anguish at her obvious pain. When he had seen the dried blood caked on her thighs, every fiber of his being demanded one thing only. Who ever did this to her will suffer unspeakable torture before I see them dead. He sat down on the floor next to her, pulling her in to his lap, stroking her hair softly, and shocking those present at his tenderness.

He was the head of one of the most powerful mob families in Vegas. He bought and sold people a hundred times a day before lunch. He had the respect of every player in the country, and those who didn’t respect him most certainly feared him.

“Shhh, baby, don’t cry. Daddy will fix everything, just tell me who did this. All will be taken care of.”

She pulled away from him slightly to look at his face, her eyes blurred and swollen from the countless tears and the unmerciful beating she had earlier endured. She looked around the room, becoming aware of her audience for the first time, immediately unnerved by them seeing her so vulnerable. They probably think I deserved this. They all think I am so stupid and worthless.

Her father felt her tense in his arms as her gaze rested on each of their faces. “Hilary and Drew, you may leave now, we’ll call you if we need you. Mother, why don’t you start our kitten here a nice hot bubble bath.” His wife nodded and quietly gathered her daughter’s robe and withdrew to the adjoining bath. She watched through glassy eyes as her mother and the others left the room, trying to pull herself together enough to talk to her father.

“What is it kitten? What can I do? What ever you want? It’s done.”

“I want him to pay. I want him to hurt. I want him to be humiliated.” Her voice was surprisingly even, with each word her eyes became clearer. Steel and resolve coursed through her body from places before unknown, as she articulated her fondest wish that hour. “Then, I want to see him dead.”

Her father watched her, unflinching as she spoke, smiling internally at his most cherished progeny, secretly proud of her astute grasp of revenge and retribution.

“Who?”

Her eyes flashed in anger as she spat out the name of her attacker, “Angel.”

He struggled to mask his shock and outrage at the knowledge that the son of one of his closest business associates would dare violate his daughter, violate him in such a way. To raise a hand to his daughter, to force himself on her was the ultimate act of betrayal, one that demanded retribution of the highest magnitude. “I’ll need to make some calls. He will be dealt with.”

“Daddy? I want to orchestrate this.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand her need to control this, to extract her own vengeance.

He let out a slow sigh of resignation. “What ever you need kitten. You have all of my resources at your disposal. Drew will see to all the details, just tell him what you want. It will be done.”

“Thank you Daddy,” she whispered quietly as she allowed her mother to help her out of his arms and into the waiting bath.

~*~*~*~

Faith fidgeted nervously with a straw wrapper, shifting in her seat, trying to avoid Xander’s steady questioning gaze.

“So we are supposed to work this out?” Xander mumbled as he took a long drink of the beer in front of him.

“I guess.” She raised her eyes to meet his briefly, then quickly dropped them, unsure of her ability to say what she needed to say and look at him at the same time. His eyes were so expressive. She never had to guess what he was feeling, as long as she could see his eyes. They said it all. And it scared the crap out her nearly every time.

“Xan… about before….” She glanced up at him again, knowing his eyes were still fixed on her, full of hope and expectation. “I know I have abused your trust, I know I have belittled your feelings for me. I have used you. I have given you every reason to hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” he interrupted softly.

“You should you should hate me. If I were you, I would hate me.” She looked at him again, this time forcing herself to meet his gaze, not look away.

“But you don’t. I know you don’t. You love me. Even though I have given you every reason not to. Actively tried to convince you not to… you still do. I don’t deserve you. I am so sorry Xander. This is hard for me. To try to open myself up to anyone. To trust anyone. To let anyone mean anything to me. Today, after you left, I realized you do mean something to me. You mean a lot to me. My chest literally hurts every time I think of the possibility that I will never see you again. The thought makes me physically sick. So I guess what I am trying to say is, in my own infantile way, I love you. I want to work this out, if you do,” she paused to study his face, “I’ll understand if you don’t want….”

He reached a hand behind her neck and firmly pulled her face to meet his in a fiery kiss, effectively convincing her of his desire to work things out.

~*~*~*~

Willow sighed as she sunk into an over-stuffed deck chair, and then giggled to herself in unmitigated glee at having finally escaped Oz’s mother. She was a nice woman, really sweet, but in a way that, after a few short hours, the most patient of people would gladly opt for having strips of flesh flayed from their body rather than endure another moment of her constant rambling.

She tucked her legs under her and gazed at the sunset, feeling a sense of contentment she hadn’t felt in quite some time. In some ways she was jealous of Oz’s family, they were attentive to each other. Her own parents were ambitious academics and nothing short of mediocre grades had ever garnered her even the slightest raise of their parental eyebrows. Oz’s family seemed so normal, so typical. His Dad, the quiet and gentle accountant, had been congenial and attentive, asking her questions about her business. Granted, the conversation had quickly turned to tax matters. ‘How are you set up?’ ‘How do you file?’ ‘Do you have a partner?’ ‘Have you thought about incorporating?’

His mother however cut straight to the heart of things. ‘So how did you meet Daniel?’ ‘Are you serious?’ ‘Daniel said you are Jewish, are you opposed to getting married in the Catholic Church?’ ‘How many children do you plan to have?’ While the bubbly woman had fired questions at her in rapid succession, she had visions of the chatty red head calling her up every few days to ask when she could expect a grandbaby and would she please consider her mother’s name, Winifred, if it were a girl. When she had pointedly asked if Willow would be sleeping in Daniel’s room, she felt herself start to hyperventilate. Fortunately Oz had rescued her, ‘desperately’ needing her help with the washing machine. She had shot him a look of gratitude and slipped out the backdoor, thinking she should have stayed with Buffy in Vegas.

~*~*~*~

Tara gazed at the blazing fire, smiling as she snuggled into the couch resting pleasantly against Giles’ chest. She couldn’t remember ever having such a perfect day. She thought of how it seemed that all at once her life had just fallen in to place.

Everyday the same thing for years, school, work, dancing, pottery, always wishing, hoping, wanting someone to share a life with. All this time going through the motions waiting for my life to finally begin. Everything else was just pretense, practice, preparation, for this, a life with someone to share it with. This is my ultimate happiness.

She marveled at how quickly her and Giles had transitioned from friends and co-workers to lovers. It was almost as if nothing had changed. They had always cared about each other, and it grew and grew, until the pieces fell into place and they became lovers. She knew the others might not understand how it could be so serious so quickly, but really, how do you ‘date’ and go through all those regular relationship stages when you have known the person in a non-sexual, but nonetheless intimate, relationship for years. It was only natural to her that things would be so serious already, they had already gotten to know each other’s quirks, pasts, and passions throughout their relationship. She knew he was exactly what she wanted more than any thing else she could imagine.

He had throughout time become as necessary as air or water in her mind. She hadn’t been able to imagine life without him for quite some time, and had no intention of finding out what it might be like now that their relationship had finally proceeded to the next level.

~*~*~*~

Spike rushed around the hotel suite, throwing things into his bag, anxious to return to Buffy, still not completely convinced of her safety. The whole psycho-ex thing wasn’t lost on him. Dru was prone to acts of childish displays of possessiveness, but this was something entirely new and it frightened him more than he was willing to admit. He had never in his life felt such an intense range of emotions, and frankly found it rather exhausting. He smiled as he remembered the expression of delight on Buffy’s face when he had brought her doughnuts earlier in the day. It seemed like that had been days ago rather than hours, after finding her unconscious on the bathroom floor, after he had felt frightened for her and then overwhelming rage at Angel and then frustration at Buffy and her unwillingness to press charges. He was lost in his thoughts when Jonathan touched him on the shoulder.

“Hey man, what’re you dreaming about? Bet I can guess.”

“Oh hey mate. Where’ve you been?”

Jonathan flushed slightly. “With Dawn. I am going with her to her parents for dinner, just came by to change. Heard you knocking around in here, so I thought I would check in. Looks like I missed something.” He nodded in the direction of the disheveled bedroom.

“Yeah, had a spot of trouble earlier. Buffy’s ex dropped by while I was out and decided to have a go at her.”

“Oh God. Is she ok? Did you kill him?”

“She’s banged up, but ok. He had already been run off by a bellhop delivering the laundry when I got back. He is damn lucky I’m not the one who interrupted him or he would be sleepin’ in a locker in the basement of the hospital tonight.”

Jonathan shook his head; he was struck at the obvious depth of the feelings his friend had for the pretty blonde. He knew she must be truly extraordinary for Spike to be so enthralled with her. Spike had carefully guarded his feelings after he and Drusilla had finally parted, brushing off even the most beautiful of willing vixens in favor of doing nearly anything else. He was happy his friend had met someone who had captured his attention and apparently his heart as well.

For himself, Vegas had so far been a most delightful experience. He was definitely what most people would define as a ‘late bloomer’ and meeting Dawn ranked high on his list of all time great lifetime moments. She was his speed. She was nervous and shy. She was kind and smart, but had a streak of fire running through her blood that drew him to her like the proverbial moth to the flame, but in a subtle way that didn’t incite the usual crippling anxiety attacks that he was prone to when even thinking about talking to a woman. He never felt that way around Dawn, the second he saw her, he’d known he wanted to introduce himself to her, the thought of personal inhalation never crossed his addled brain. He’d just known he would miss something really special if he didn’t know this girl.

~*~*~*~

Buffy smiled as she wandered around the luxurious suite. The Bellagio had always been her favorite casino, and spending the night in a winner’s suite was high on her list of ‘things I want to do in my life time’. She loved everything about the place. The first time she had stepped through the doors was a memory she played over and over in her mind. She was with her friends, having spent the day playing at other casinos, and they had insisted they make the trek to the Bellagio to see the fountain show at night. She had actually thought no big… and just went a long for the ride. But when she had stepped through the doors, onto the white marble, the aroma of fresh flowers assaulted her senses and the fragrance gently beckoned her to embrace it. It was decadent.

Everything about the place screamed luxury, comfort, and indulgence. Unlike the other casinos with the deafening roar of slot machines, soft music played in the background and lively elegant arrangements of flowers were displayed artfully throughout the establishment. The art gallery was one of her favorite spots, she knew her mother would have appreciated the various shows that the casino drew. Since discovering it, she had gazed at works of many of the impressionists, including Monet, Pissaro, Renior, Gaughan, Cassatt, and Signaut. The gallery was the one secret indulgence she had never shared with her friends.

She could still remember the first time she had sat down in a chair, while waiting for her friends, the utter comfort of the fine leather chair overwhelming her. The typical marketing strategy of uncomfortable chairs to encourage people to get up and move through the casino was mocked here, and it was a lesson in luxury that appealed to her in ways that were impossible to describe. Most people’s idea of a vacation included actually leaving the town in which they live and going some place beautiful, exotic, relaxing, maybe luxurious. Her ideal of the perfect vacation was a stay at the Bellagio, complete with daily spa treatments, fine dining, beautiful art, and entertainment galore.

She sank into an overstuffed chair and let the events of the previous week play through her mind. So much had happened so quickly. She felt as if her chest was trying to constrict and expand at the same time as she tried to define the wash of emotions she felt as she processed all her feelings regarding the meeting of Spike. The sensations that engulfed her soul when she thought about him startled her. Every fiber of her being tickled with a sense of awakening when he was near; her cool façade of calm determination withered every time he was in the same room, her body defying her brain’s cries of restraint and caution, drawn to the fire that first flickered, then raged uncontrollably between them. It was as if the very essence of her being was drawn to him and would not be denied the closeness that only his touch could provide. The chemistry between them was fathomless, yet her thoughts were still clouded with uncertainty.

Is there more than just heat? What else is there between us? Can we build on this?

Her heart shouted that there was something there, but her mind fought a ferocious battle, and replayed the scene of Angel pushing past her into Spike’s hotel room.

She relived the scene of him leering at her, spitting words of venom at her, accusing her of panting after the musician like the slut that he had always suspected she was. It had been easy to ignore his insults until he had pinned her to the wall, pulling at her robe, asking her what her mother would think of her naked in the hotel room of a man she had known only a week.

He was delighted that his words had the impact he hoped for and took advantage of the momentary lowering of her defenses while her doubts clouded her vision. He sensed her vulnerability and kicked her legs out from underneath her, covering her body with his own, pinning her arms above her head, laughing at her as she wriggled underneath him trying to escape, while his free hand fumbled with the fastenings of his pants.

Her body startled at the vision in her head. Replaying the scene, she was detached from her body, watching the scene like a ghost, desperately wanting to act on behalf of the outsized girl she watched as she scrambled futilely away from the man deranged with jealously and rage. Her body convulsed as she sobbed, trying to shake the images of Angel groping at her, bruising her flesh, tattooing her body with temporary physical reminders of his wrath. The thing that infuriated her most about Angel’s assault on her body was that his words had scarred her psyche, leaving her to question the relationship between she and Spike. A mere twenty-fours before she had been confident, secure, excited, and extremely happy. Now she shuddered as she struggled to forget his hateful accusations, she hated him all the more for making her question her behavior, what she was feeling. What if he is right?

She pulled her legs underneath her, falling asleep as her sobs rocked her exhausted body to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~

“Anya, please, it’s hard to put a sentence together when you are doing that.”

The blonde frowned as she threw the pile of covers behind her, looking up at Mike’s tortured face as he rested against the headboard.

“Mission accomplished then,” she mumbled wickedly, turning her attention back to his engorged member twitching in her hand, her tongue lapping at his swollen head.

He groaned, twisting away from her. “Anya, I am trying to talk to you. I’m sure you are familiar with the concept of conversation. You know, the traditional method in which two people communicate, learn about one another, try to form a relationship.”

She sat up, pulling a sheet over her body, tucking it under her arms. His sudden desire for conversation confused her, she thought things were proceeding wonderfully, now he seemed frustrated by her attention and she found it disconcerting.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? You seemed to enjoy that before.”

“It’s not that.” He pulled her against his chest; “I just want to talk to you. I want to get to know you. There is more to a relationship than sex you know.”

She snorted. She felt his body stiffen under her, and she shifted to face him, realizing he was serious, and her response had somehow disturbed him.

“I’m sorry. What did you want to talk about?”

“I just… hell I don’t know. I guess I want to find out if there is anything between us other than sexual compatibility.”

“Well, I think sexual compatibility is one of the most important aspects of a successful relationship. I mean if you don’t have that, what’s the point? Am I wrong?”

He mulled that over. Well yeah. It’s important. But the basis of a long-term relationship? Is it enough? What happens if sex is taken out of the equation? What happens then? What if there is nothing else?

“Hey I like sex as much as the next guy, I just thought, you know. It might be good to get to know you. In a non-sexual way too.”

Anya flinched. She wasn’t sure she liked where this was going. Sex she could handle. That was simple. Chemistry, attraction… it was natural. Sex was natural. Bodies responding to each other, giving each other pleasure. It was what they were made for. But communication? Relationships? That was something else. That required trust, honest discussions. It required her to open up, make herself vulnerable. That was an area she wasn’t so sure she was willing to venture into. It seemed so potentially painful. She was happy with her life. She was the epitome of the ‘lip-stick’ feminist. She liked men. She liked sex. Worse, it could mean a loss. But extending the investment metaphor she was so familiar with, it could have a significant return. Her issue was, she tended to lean toward investments that were a ‘sure thing’, and high-risk ventures were not her style.

He watched her face carefully as she struggled to determine what she was willing to risk. He warred within himself as he waited. He had never done this before. He had never been the one to put on the brakes and try to initiate a serious conversation. It unnerved him. He couldn’t explain why he wanted to do this. Normally, he was all about the sex; he was the one to dodge the ‘serious’ conversations. Never wanting to do anything but play and enjoy the moment. But for some insane reason, he wanted more than that. He didn’t know if it was her, if it was being in Vegas. All he knew was that since they had arrived in Vegas, they all were changing, as if they were under some spell. It was as if the planets had aligned and their lives were all falling into order. The kicker was they didn’t know they were out of order before.

Anya broke the silence, her voice soft and full of uncertainty, “Do you want to go have dinner? We could talk…”

He smiled at her, trying to reassure her that everything would be fine, “That sounds like a great idea.”

~*~*~*~

Buffy scanned the casino floor, searching for Spike and her friends. She had woken from her nap, determined to forget the day with a night of fun with her friends, with a considerable amount of alcohol thrown in for good measure. She snagged a waitress and ordered a margarita, then sat down at a blackjack table, her position centrally located to give her the best chance of being found by her party. She smiled unconsciously at the other players, distracted by her quest to find her friends. She had resolved to play things safe. She knew that Spike would be going back to LA soon, and the events of the day had left her questioning her own behavior. She knew she was vulnerable and she didn’t like it.

Best to play things cool. Not get attached. If I don’t get attached, I won’t get hurt.

Spike hurried through the casino, carrying several bags. He had tried to reach Buffy on the phone. When she didn’t answer, he decided to try the front desk, maybe she had left him a message there. She had left him a key to the suite, so he proceeded upstairs, hoping to find her there. He was disappointed to find an empty room, so he quickly deposited his cargo on the couch and glanced around the room. He smiled as he read the note she had left him, indicating he could find her waiting for him downstairs at the blackjack table.

Buffy nodded to the dealer for another card, and smiled when he flipped down another queen. She doubled her bet and split the two, finishing her drink quickly. The alcohol and gambling were achieving the desired buzz, her body flushed with excitement, and she was glad she had opted to play tonight rather than deal with all that had happened. She squirmed on her perch as she noticed the distinctive form that was Spike walking directly toward her, ignoring the obvious stares of women whose eyes followed him as he swaggered past them. She turned her attention back to the dealer, and squealed with the delight as he dealt her two aces. 21 again! She tipped the dealer and slid off the stool, determined to find out what had delayed Spike. She took a few steps in the direction she had seen him approaching her and scowled at the sight.

Spike was standing a few feet away, engaged in apparently a fascinating conversation with a leggy brunette. She felt her face grow hot and her hands clenched as she gritted her teeth. Her jaw dropped as the brunette ran her hand over Spike’s chest, and she watched in horror as Spike leaned toward the girl, placing a kiss on her forehead. As he pulled away from the girl, he sensed her presence and his eyes locked with hers. A sexy smirk played on his lips as he silently willed her to come rescue him from the fan that had delayed him from joining her at the table. His meaning was lost on her, mistaking his smirk for annoyance at her interrupting his encounter, and she spun on her heel, making her way directly to the nearest bar and ordering a shot of tequila as she fumed at her own stupidity.

Angel was right. I don’t mean anything to him. I have been a fool. Prancing around with my head in the clouds thinking that any of this actually means something. There is no relationship here. I don’t own him. He is a player. And I fell right on my back for him. He’s a musician, for Christ’s sake. Like he is going to settle for me when he can have any number of women with the mere raising of an eyebrow.

She nodded to the bartender indicating her desire for another shot, and closed her eyes as the liquor burned the back of her throat. Her body tensed, then tingled as adept fingers grazed softly up and down her spine. She cursed her traitorous body’s response to the sexy blonde and ordered another shot.

Spike stood silently behind her, watching her slam back her third shot in the few minutes she had been there. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, wondering what had changed with her. Before she had seemed fine, now she obviously wasn’t and apparently he figured largely in the reason why. He wrestled with what he should say to her, not sure as to the reason for her quest for inebriation. He cringed inwardly when she finally shifted around on the stool to face him, her impassioned glare raking over him, daring him to challenge her.

“What happened to your new girlfriend?” Her voice dripped with contempt as she tried to disguise the hurt and betrayal she felt.

“New girlfriend?” he smirked. Nodding to the bartender he ordered a beer, his hand returning to gently stroke her back, “didn’t know you had such a high opinion of me, pet.”

She snorted at the margarita the bartender slid in front of her. “High opinion?”

He watched her carefully, quite surprised; she had not struck him as being insecure. The girl he had known the previous week was confident; this girl was conflicted, tenuous and closed off. The change in her attitude was palpable, and it frightened him. He suddenly was overwhelmed with fear that Angel had managed to somehow break the spirit of the girl he was so inextricably drawn to.

“Sure, never fancied myself as a bloke who could keep up with more than one woman at a time. Flattered you think I have those kinds of talents though,” he smiled at her, hoping to break the tension that was building a wall between them.

She smiled weakly at him, suddenly overcome with weariness. She hated feeling this way. She knew if this was going to go anywhere they needed to talk.

Talking means dealing with Angel. I don’t think I can do that. I don’t know what I want now. God, why is this so hard? I don’t want to play games. I don’t want to feel this way. I just want to go back to laughing with this interesting guy. I want to kiss him, and enjoy the way he makes me forget about everything else but him.

She sighed loudly, then groaned at the annoying throb in her side. She shifted on the stool, trying to ease the pressure on her sore ribs. The alcohol hit her full force and she lost her footing on the stool, sliding clumsily into his arms as he hurried to right her. She giggled drunkenly, then pushed against his chest.

“You must think I am some idiot. I’m not some groupie, eager to please. I am not one of those star-struck little sluts.”

“I never suggested otherwise, luv. What is going on?” His voice was low and controlled, sensing that things had definitely taken a turn for the worse.

“Oh nothing. I just have realized how foolish I’ve been. Thinking that this…. What ever this is… meant something to you…” She turned back to the bar and waved to the bartender. Spike caught his attention behind her, signaling him to cut her off. She pouted when the bartender ignored her, and growled as Spike gently tugged at her arm, leading her away from the bar.

“Hey, I want another drink,” she protested.

“You’ve had enough for now. Let’s go get cleaned up for dinner.”

“You’re not the boss of me. You don’t have say in what I do. Why don’t you go find your little friend and leave me the hell alone.”

She hung her head, not believing she had said those words to him. Wishing to all hell she could take it all back, certain he would now turn tail and run. She knew she probably would in his place. He stood there staring at her, trying to decide what to do next. He waited for her to meet his eyes, hoping that he would see some indication there of what she really wanted, really needed for him to do. He tried to reconcile her behavior with all that had happened and something deep within was telling him to hang on, be patient. Cordelia’s earlier warnings rang through his memory and he squared his shoulders, his decision made. He reached out and took her hand. He led her to the elevator without a word.

~*~*~*~

“Why don’t you have a seat.”

She nodded wordlessly and sunk into the chair she had napped in earlier. They eyed each other tentatively. Spike lit a fag, and slid down on the couch facing her, trying to compose his emotions long enough to work through whatever had her acting so strangely.

“What’s going on, Buffy?”

She drew a ragged breath, and raised her eyes to meet him, wishing she smoked so she would have something to do with her hands. She leaned forward with a shrug and picked up his pack off the table. He watched her fumble with the lighter with amusement, then reached out taking it from her, lighting her smoke with a quick turn of his wrist. He chuckled to himself when she choked on the harsh smoke.

“Probably shouldn’t try to inhale luv, gonna make yourself sick.”

She stared at the glowing tip of the cigarette, momentarily grateful for the distraction, giving her more time to determine how she should proceed. Her brain and her heart were still debating the merits of remaining detached from him, backing off from the intimacy they had shared versus taking the chance of getting her heart smashed by this stranger she was so attracted to.

“I don’t know what is going on. I saw you with that girl….I figured you had other things to entertain you.”

“Entertain me?”

“Well you know. On to the next one. You don’t owe me anything. It’s not like we have some long history or anything.”

He moved off the couch and knelt on the floor between her legs.

“Tell me luv, if you had seen the same thing yesterday afternoon, what would you have thought? What would you have done? Really think about it.”

“Nothing. I would have thought she saw the show and wanted to meet you.” Her eyes met his, the realization of his point striking her fully.

“So this really isn’t about seeing me talking to that girl is it?”

She shook her head slowly. Her shoulders slumped, and she began to shake, her body convulsing as she fought the sobs building in her throat. He pulled her into his arms, and she gave into the tears. He mumbled words of comfort and assurance in her hair, until her sobs subsided and she turned to face him.

“Angel…”

“Angel what? You can tell me, it’s ok.”

“The things he said to me… he… I don’t…” she shifted uncomfortably in his lap, then slid away from him, climbing back into the chair. “What is this? What are we doing?”

“I don’t know what you are asking me, pet.”

“Is this just a fling? What happens when you go back to LA?” She fidgeted nervously in the chair, unable to hide the fear and self doubt in her eyes.

“What did he say to you?”

She twitched under his gaze, unable to look him in the eye. “That I was a groupie slut. I was nothing more than a steady screw while you were here.”

Spike’s jaw clenched in rage, watching her tremble as she recalled Angel’s venomous assault. “He said my mother is probably rolling over in her grave, watching me go down on you like a two dollar whore. That I was a fool if I didn’t think for a minute that there would be twenty women more than willing to take my place in your bed.”

Spike sat there stunned, realizing that the physical assault Angel had rained on her had done far less damage to her than his verbal assault. He drew a long breath and crushed out his fag. Raising up on his knees, he forced her to look into his eyes.

His face was so expressive. His eyes spoke volumes as they willed her to understand, to believe. To fight back against the doubt that was threatening to consume her.

“He was right about one thing.” He paused, hoping she would listen to what he had to say, and really hear him. “There are plenty of women who would be happy to take your place, but he missed the point. I don’t want them, I want you. Only you. More importantly, he missed the fact that you are no different than me in that regard.”

He paused again, his eyes intently searching hers to assess whether or not she was grasping his implication. Confusion and uncertainty were etched across her face and he covered her hands with his as he slowly continued. “Luv, how many times a night would you say you are bought a drink?”

She shifted nervously, not sure of where he was going with this, “I don’t know, 15, maybe 20. Depends on the night.”

“Okay, how many phone numbers are stuffed in your hand on business cards and napkins each night?”

She shrugged, “Probably the same.”

“Don’t you see?”

She shook her head, still confused, not sure of his meaning, “I don’t understand.”

“The lady at the desk told me this was a winner’s suite and that our stay was complimentary. Tell me, do they normally comp rooms when people win $5000?”

She shook her head no. He continued slowly. “So tell me, was there a man at the desk when you went to book a room?”

“Well yes, but he said that they had several rooms available because of the holiday. I don’t see your point.”

He eyed her in disbelief.

“You don’t think that you had anything to do with that? Do you think we would be staying in this room if the desk clerk had happened to be a woman?” He paused again for effect before continuing. “Why does Faith ban boyfriends from the bar?”

“Because most guys can’t handle watching their girlfriends being ogled,” she answered automatically. His eyebrow shot up, his expression challenging her to work it out. She slowly smiled at him, finally wrapping her mind around his argument, feeling traces of her former consciousness returning to their rightful place, casting off the feelings of inferiority and self doubt Angel had forced on her.

“Don’t ever think that I don’t know how lucky I am that you noticed me. You are the most beautiful, most talented, most intoxicating woman I have ever met. And every night, there are dozens of men who stare at you wishing with their entire being that you might look at them just once. I’ve watched you work. You own the room. Every move you make is executed with calculated precision, and it is without a doubt the most memorizing thing I have ever witnessed. Watching you work turns me on in ways I cannot begin to describe. You have nothing to be ashamed of, there is no pretense in your actions, your eyes express all that you are, all that you desire. Don’t let him win. You have the power, it’s in you. I don’t know what this is. I have never felt this way before in my life. But I do know that you are my equal.”

He leaned toward her, brushing his lips across hers. He pressed them softly against her, inviting her to take the lead. She responded slowly, her tongue tracing his lips seeking entrance. He smiled against her, thankful she responded as he had hoped and opened his mouth, accepting her soft tongue as it slid across his, carefully exploring, memorizing the taste of beer, cigarettes, and something distinctly Spike. Her fingertips grazed across the chiseled planes of his face, feeling the muscles flex as he kissed her, somehow reinforcing his words of assurance. She was again consumed by the need to be closer to him and her arms slid around his back pulling him closer to her. He pulled away from her to stare into her hazel eyes that had again filled with unshed tears. He gently brushed one stray teardrop away with his thumb, then softly kissed the place it had rested on her face.

“What is it, luv?”

“What will happen when you leave?”

“I don’t know. I know that I hate the idea of being away from you for one minute. So we are just going to have to work it out. The way I feel about you isn’t going to change just because I am in a different state. We will work it out. But you know what?” He smiled wickedly, “Seems silly to mope around worrying about that now. We aren’t leaving for a while yet. And we may get asked back. No sense borrowing trouble. Why don’t we enjoy what we have and see what happens?”

She forced the remaining thoughts of doubt and fear aside, and let the feelings of excitement and desire that characterized his presence wash over her. “You’re right, better to make the most of the time we have instead of brooding over what I’ll miss when you are gone,” she whispered as she leaned toward him to trace his ear with her tongue. He fought the urge to ravish her in the chair, groaning as her tongue teased at his ear, sending blood rushing to his groin.

“Better stop that pet, or we’ll miss our reservation for dinner.”

“Don’t wanna stop, wanna play.”

“Your friends are waiting, we’ll play later,” he purred as he pulled away from her, tugging her hand and urging her to stand up.

She whined, “Let’s just eat here. I want to play now.”

“This was your idea, they’re waiting for us, you wanted to celebrate remember?”

She pouted at him, tempting him to tell her friends to bugger off. “Look at that lip. Pouty!… Gonna get it…gonna get it,” he mumbled as he pulled her to him, kissing her breathless once again.

Buffy slipped out from under the arm Spike had flung over her hip, wincing slightly at the tinge of pain emanating from her bruised ribs, as she moved cautiously in an effort to not disturb the sleeping blonde beside her. She wandered through the suite quietly, finally slumping in an overstuffed chair across from the bed. Dinner had been pleasant; the four had swapped stories and laughed as they recalled their most infamous Christmas pasts. She smiled as she recalled the distinct change in Xander and Faith’s relationship. Gone was the usual carefully guarded, often snarky banter, and in its place was a comfortable familiarity, the hint of intimacy in its infancy. It was oddly encouraging to her to see the pair exploring their love for each other.

The conversation turned serious as the evening drew to a close, as Faith quietly asked what Buffy wanted to do about Angel. Everyone at the table had been silent for several long moments; each lost in their own thoughts of the appropriate way to handle the situation. Xander finally broke the silence with characteristic humor, suggesting a strategically placed wrecking ball knocking Angel through a wall would solve all their problems. After several minutes of hysterical laugher most commonly heard from schizophrenic paranoids, they had engaged in a lengthy discussion of ‘Fitting ends of Angel.’ It had been great therapy. It had finally been Faith that suggested the most workable, and legal way of dealing with their problem.

They had reached the consensus that the best they could do would be to try and convince Angel’s father that it was in his best interest to keep Angel away from Buffy- permanently. Faith argued that he was a businessman and the best way to deal with him was as a businessman. If they could secure the support of the Coyote staff, she was certain she could ‘reason’ with him. Faith really was the best person for the job, she wasn’t easily intimidated, and she had done a good job of managing the club- the latter had garnered her ‘favor’ with the illustrious Mr. O’Conner. She felt certain he would see her and listen to reason. With that settled, and their moods decidedly chipper in a way that was not, they ended their impromptu celebration and retired to their separate suites.

Alone, Buffy realized that through the course of dinner, feelings between Spike and herself had also changed. The sexual undercurrent that had previously defined their every encounter as an all-encompassing flood of tumultuous desire had dissipated to the subtle ebbing tide of new emotions. Affection, concern, respect, familiarity, and bridled passion grew with each passing minute. Even so, every brush of his hand had set her ablaze. At first, the slightest physical contact between them had overwhelmed her senses with the desire to drive them both to the edge of sexual oblivion, and beyond. Last night, the sensations had sent messages of safety, promises, and completion to combat the thoughts of fear and doubt still warring in her head and heart.

There were moments where both seemed shy and uncertain with each other. Spike had looked at the floor, mumbling that he had brought her some ‘comfortable clothes’ from the crate and taking them, she had excused herself to the bathroom to change in private. The thought had crossed her mind that it was somewhat ridiculous to be concerned with modesty, but she quickly dismissed them, thinking it more appropriate than getting naked in front of Spike. Sex was something that had, until now, dominated their fledging relationship. She knew that she wasn’t in any physical shape to engage in sexual acrobatics, even if they could ignore the glaring reminders of Angel’s attack -mostly hidden under her clothes- and she seriously doubted that either of them could. They both were tense, walking a fine thread, which was already threatening to snap under the pressure of being wound far too tightly.

She had emerged from the bathroom to find Spike changed and lounging drowsily on the bed. She stood at the end it, paralyzed with uncertainty with what she should do. When she’d finally brought her gaze to meet his, she felt her body relax slowly, seeing the undeniable concern and reassurance on his face. She settled against his chest and they had talked for hours about his life, growing up in England, his tedious relationship with Dru, his love of poetry and music. She told him about her mom and how lost and alone she’d felt when it was all over. They had laughed over the ambitions they had crafted for themselves at the end of high school, and remembered the defining moments in their lives that had ultimately changed their intended paths. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, hoarse from talking and weary from the emotional day.

Spike slowly drifted between pleasant dreams of the night he had spent in absolute reverence, making love to Buffy, to nightmares of finding her naked, bloody and beaten on his bathroom floor. The dreams varied from Angel having not been interrupted and had raped her savagely, to ones where he walked into the room while he was raping her. They even included ones where he got back before he had been able to lay a finger on her, and Spike had beat him to death cheerfully and leaving them to shag the day away, as he had originally intended. He reached out for her in his sleep, and drifted slowly awake in frustration when he was unable to locate the warm body of the woman who fit so perfectly into his embrace. He located her through sleepy, hooded eyes, lost in her own thoughts across the room. He fought the overwhelming urge to carry her back to bed and never let her leave.

“Penny for your thoughts, luv.”

She smiled slowly at him. She’d been lost in an internal debate, weighing the pros and cons of the options before her. On one hand, she wanted to sequester herself away with Spike, in an obscenely romantic setting, and never have to face any unpleasantness. Never having to tell her friends, or worse, Giles, what had transpired in their absence. They could read, talk, and cook together. They could make love for hours, and repeat the process for eternity, safely tucked away from the real world. On the other hand, she had goals; finishing her degree, writing, other ambitions, but pursuing them meant dealing with bills, friends- the aftermath of all things Angel. The fantasy was so appealing…

“Actually, I was contemplating the benefits of escapism as a means of coping with reality.”

He chuckled softly, propping himself up on pillows to allow himself a better view of her in the dim light. “Escapism and coping with reality in the same sentence-that would be an oxymoron wouldn’t it?”

His quip earned him another smile and a soft sigh. “Well, I guess. If you want to get all technical about it… But the theory isn’t without merit. One could argue that we over analyze everything- if we spent more time exploring the merits of escape, we might be all the better for it.”

“Luv, it’s been done. How many books are there about managing mid-life? Escapism is just a clinical term the hacks have created to excuse people shirking their responsibilities.”

She snorted. “Sounds like my dad. He’s the poster-child for escapism. Doesn’t seem the worse for it though; shiny new car, exotic trips all over the world... Maybe he has the right idea. Take care of yourself, see to your own happiness…”

“You don’t really believe that?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” She paused, trying to organize her thoughts, “When mom was diagnosed, I called him. I don’t know what I thought he would say; I guess just I expected that he would come home. I guess I thought he would put me first for once. It was so much to deal with. I was so young, barely out of high school. I mean, I was over the divorce. I could forgive him for missing awards night, birthdays, and graduation. In the big picture, facing my mother’s illness, her death, all of those things were insignificant. But dealing with all that, alone- I was furious. At the end, when mom was so bad, I called him again- just hoping. His response was he didn’t want to see her that way; he needed to remember her the way she had been. He said I was too young to be so serious- that I should relax, have some fun.”

“But you’re not made up that way. Your mum needed you and the bloody pillock couldn’t see you needed him. I’m sorry luv, you deserve better than that.”

She smiled softly at him. “Thanks…I’m really over it. It took awhile, but I finally realized I could either hate him, which was making me miserable, or I could accept what I can’t change and move on. I opted for the latter…” she concluded with a shrug.

They sat in silence for several minutes, lost in their own thoughts. Sitting for so long in the same position began to take its toll on Buffy’s bruised body and she shifted, first stretching her legs, then squirming around trying to find a more comfortable position.

“Pretty sore today?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. She eyed him carefully, trying to ascertain his mood, his feelings. Things felt different and she wasn’t sure exactly what that meant.

“Feel like a soak in that big tub, maybe a massage? It might help…”

“That sounds nice.”

“Right then, wait here. I’ll get everything ready.”

He moved slowly off the bed and paused in front of her. He dropped softly to his knees, and placed his hand softly on her knees, brushing his lips across hers in a chaste kiss.

“Merry Christmas, pet…rest for a bit. I’ll get everything ready.”

She sunk back into the chair and let her head fall back against the soft cushion, her eyes fluttering shut. He cupped her cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone, and she murmured as she drifted off to sleep, “Merry Christmas, William.”

~*~*~*~

He emerged from the bathroom to find her dozing peacefully. He gently stroked her face with the back of his hand, then let his fingers graze over her soft lips. He smiled as she leaned into his caress in slumber; he felt a tightening in his groin as his name tumbled off her lips in an almost inaudible whisper.

“Luv?”

She stirred slightly, her body unconsciously seeking his touch. He brought his lips to hers and flicked his tongue at them, softly teasing them open. She responded, her lips opening slightly, allowing his tongue to tease her slowly awake. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her hands ran through his hair, their tongues sweeping over each other in a slow, sensuous kiss. She brought one hand to his face, letting her fingers trace his chiseled features, etching every angle of him into her memory.

He languidly pulled away from her, with a smirk that could only be described as sexy. “Ready for that bath?” he mumbled, trying to push aside the urge to pull her into his lap and shag her into an orgasm induced coma.

She nodded wordlessly, and he helped her to her feet.

“Everything is ready. I’ll give you some privacy, just call if you need anything.”

She gasped softly when she entered the bathroom. He had drawn the bath as he said, but in addition the room was lit softly with the glow of thick cream candles. On every surface fresh flowers rested filling the room with the most delightful aroma. The oversized Jacuzzi tub swirled silently with bubbles, and resting on the edge was a tray of fresh fruit, croissants and a pitcher of mimosas.

After brushing her teeth and struggling to pin up her hair, she found herself cursing Angel again when she couldn’t manage to pull her top off without experiencing blinding pain. Gaining her composure, she stuck her head out of the door.

“Spike?”

“Yeah luv?” He called back from the outer room where he was smoking a fag, trying to will away the throb in his lower half.

“I need some help.” He crushed out his smoke, bloody hell, he cursed at himself as he felt the tightness return as images of her naked in the warm swirling water flashed through his brain. Get control of yourself mate. She said she needed your help, not a shag…

~*~*~*~

Angel groaned as he slowly drifted back into consciousness. He squinted as he surveyed his room, groaning again as his head throbbed in synch with the continuous pounding on the outer door.

“Go away!” He growled at the unseen force on the other side of the door, his voice scratchy and his stomach knotted in protest to the abuse he had inflicted on it by way of a fifth of scotch the night before.

“Mr. Angelus, your father sent me to collect you. He said not to return without you.”

Angel muttered under his breath. He hated it when people attached mister to his first name. It was a harsh reminder that, in the minds of all that counted, he was a child, THE child of a powerful man. But not a man. Only a child. He was damn tired of it.

“Tell my father I will be there later. I am taking a shower.”

“Sir, I am supposed to wait.”

Angel flung open the door, scowling at the small framed man on the other side, “Unless you would like me to rip off your dick and shove it up your ass as a Christmas present from me, I would suggest you leave me now, and tell my father I will be there when I get there.”

The man trembled in fear, torn between fear of bodily harm at the hands of the man in front of him, and the wrath of his employer. Deciding Mr. O’Conner was a more reasonable man than his errant son, he slowly backed away from the door, unwilling to turn his back on the obviously unstable man before him.

~*~*~*~

Jonathan fidgeted nervously on the couch. When Dawn had invited him to Christmas dinner, he had readily accepted, thrilled to be spending the afternoon with her, regardless of the venue. But as soon as they had arrived, he had begun to feel more and more uncomfortable. Her parents were kind and gracious, but she had brothers. Three brothers actually, and they were large. They also obviously they didn’t agree that their sister dating was of the good. Her mom tried to ease his discomfort, telling him it wasn’t personal- they would hate any male that she brought home. Somehow that only made him feel more anxious, certain that any second they were going to drag him to the basement and make him take some weird lie detector test and then school him on the various effective techniques of torture. He had no idea were Dawn was- she had disappeared a while ago saying she had to help her sister-in-law with some thing. He just hoped she would return soon, preferably before one of her brothers got bored tossing the football around and decided to use him for a tackling dummy.

~*~*~*~

“Did you get a hold of anyone?” Oz asked as he wrapped his arms around Willow’s waist.

“No one at the house. I finally got in touch with Xander on his cell phone. They all spent the night at the Bellagio, apparently Buffy and Faith had a run of luck.” She sighed as he sucked gently at her neck.

“Sounds like they had a good night.”

“Well, not so much. I didn’t get any details, but apparently Angel attacked Buffy again. She’s pretty beat up. Said things were not of the good, but that they have a plan they want to talk over with everyone when we get back.” She pulled out of his arms to face him. “I know your mom is expecting us to stay tonight…”

“But you want to get back?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I can get a flight back on my own. I just feel like I should..”

“Be there for your friend?” She smiled at him, wordlessly thanking him for understanding how much she needed to see for herself that her friend was ok.

“We are a family -not a typical one, I’ll admit- but still that is what we are- and I can’t stand the idea of her being there- going through Goddess knows what- alone.”

“Hey. I get it…but she isn’t alone you know, Spike is with her.”

“Well yeah, but Buffy…not-so-happy Buffy, well, she has a history of…pushing people away…shutting down. Spike hasn’t known her very long. She may have eliminated him from the picture already.”

“Spike has it pretty bad, and he doesn’t frighten easily. If I know him, he is right by her side treating her like a queen, even if she has turned into the queen bitch of Vegas.”

“Hope you’re right. Still, I should get back, and call the others back too. She needs us.”

“Ok, you call the others. I’ll go downstairs and book us a flight back and break the news to mom.”

He turned to leave the room, pausing momentarily at the door when he heard her soft voice, full of concern for her friend, mumble “Thanks, Oz.”

His eyes locked with hers, and he smiled slightly, trying to give her strength and reassure her that everything would be fine. “Hey, as long as I’m with you Red, I’m with the good…doesn’t matter if it’s here or in Vegas. ‘Sides, if we stay here much longer mom’s going to ‘pop some corn’ and break out the slides of all our vacations.”

She laughed at the image of the family piled on the couch, listening to his mom narrate the slides for hours, and thinking that perhaps her sudden urge to call home had been a divine intervention. “Well, it’s all settled then…you call the airlines; I’ll call Tara, Giles, and Anya.”

~*~*~*~

It was late by the time Oz and Willow arrived home to find Tara, Giles, Mike, Anya, Xander, Faith, and Spike gathered around a table on the deck with a pitcher of margaritas and an ice chest full of beer next to the table.

“Hey guys! Where’s Buffy?”

“Hey Red. She’ll be down in a bit- just woke up from a nap.” Spike mumbled taking a large gulp of beer.

“Does she know everyone is back?”

“Um, yeah…I told her.” Spike replied.

“How is she?”

Everyone looked around, hesitant to make eye contact with each other. Mike and Oz shifted uncomfortably, each noticing the tension rolling off of Spike in waves, recognizing the signs of him reaching his breaking point. Spike shifted his gaze between each of her gathered friends. Unable to sit still any longer, he stood up. Quickly snatching a beer from the ice chest, he began pacing around the deck.

“Why did you all come back?” His voice was flat and quiet.

Willow tensed at his question, uncertain of what he was really asking. “To be here for Buffy. Why wouldn’t we come back when she needs us?” Her tone was defensive.

“She needs you for what, Red?” Spike asked, genuinely trying to be patient.

“To be here for her. To help her. To get her through this.”

“And you intend to do this how? You can’t even look at each other right now. You’re all acting guilty, or sad, or I don’t know…strange. Do you really think that’s going to help her?”

Willow’s face flushed, angry at Spike’s accusations. “Who do you think you…”

Anya cut her off. “Willow, calm down. Spike is right. If all we’re planning to do is sit around her and draw her attention to what happened, all we are going to is make her feel worse. She doesn’t need us to remind her of what happened, she needs for things to be normal.”

“So what? We should pretend it didn’t happen?” Willow snapped back, her voice lower than before.

“No one is suggesting that Willow.” Giles stood as he addressed the group. “Anya does, however, make a valid point. Acting like this will only serve to make Buffy feel bad that your plans were ruined because of her.”

The group was silent again, each contemplating how to proceed. Anya finally spoke up.

“Here’s a plan. Tara and Willow- go check on Buffy. Talk to her, but don’t press her- you know, do that empathic girl bonding thing you all like so much. Faith and I will put these guys to work on a spectacular cookout. We can do our Christmas stuff. Have a little party. Xander, you take care of the music, heat up the hot tub; make sure the lights are working. Giles, check the freezer in the garage, I think there are some steaks out there. Mike, fire up that grill. Oz, you and Spike gather all the alcohol and ice you can find- check Xander’s apartment too. It’s Christmas people, let’s have some fun!” Anya concluded with forced enthusiasm.

Willow mumbled as she followed Tara into the house, “Hello? still Jewish...bitch.”

~*~*~*~

Buffy leaned against the deck railing watching her friends as they played volleyball in the pool. Spike caught her eye, giving her a mock salute, and she returned it before turning to face Giles, leaning on the rail next to her.

“So how are you, Lizbeth?” She smiled. Giles was one of the few people who continued to call her Lizbeth after her mother died. She often teased him about being overly formal, but in reality she liked it. It reminded her of her mother, and reaffirmed his position as a surrogate father.

“Sore. Pissed. Tired. Weary.”

“Understandable, I imagine. Is there anything I can do?”

“Not really. Seems everyone liked Faith’s plan. Hopefully it will convince Angel’s father to deal with him. The rest…will work itself out.”

“What about Spike?”

“Huh?”

“You two seem…close.”

She snickered under her breath, she knew the idea of her dating tended to make Giles twitchy, but she lacked the energy to torture him with it in her characteristic fashion.

“I like him. A lot. He treats me like an equal. I’m also a little afraid. I’ve never felt like this before. I know I’ve barely known him a week. But it’s like something inside me was asleep and when I met him, it woke up and a part of me knows that I won’t be happy without that in my life ever again. I know it sounds crazy…”

Giles chuckled softly. “Actually, it doesn’t sound crazy at all. Sounds like you’re falling in love with him.” Her jaw dropped and she started to protest. “Don’t try to argue, it’s ok. You may not be ready for it. May not know it. Doesn’t really matter, I see it. I’ve been there myself- I’m there now. Doesn’t matter how much you fight it Buffy. Love isn’t brains, child. It’s blood, screaming to work its will.”

She took a drink, replaying his words in her brain, inwardly singing with joy in response to his obvious happiness.

“So you and Tara, wow!”

He smiled at the mention of his love. “You have no idea. I wanted to talk to you about Tara.”

“Really…about what? Anything but sex…cause I love you…but ewwww...”

“Don’t be crass Lizbeth! I want to ask her to…”

She enthusiastically cut him off. “Get OUT!”

“What?”

“You’re gonna ask her to marry you??? Oh my God. And, wow. Giles, that is…ok, weird. But…great! Again with the wow.”

“So glad you approve. Now, I was hoping you would have some ideas of how I might ask her. I want it to be special. It must be perfect. Has she ever mentioned a fantasy proposal?”

“Well, I could discretely look into that, but Giles, if you want romance…ask her at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Say something about wanting to start the rest of your life with her on the first minute, of the first day of the New Year. Something romantic, Victorian…you know…British…she’ll love it.”

He considered her suggestion; “Perhaps you’re right, New Year’s Eve would be appropriate. We’ll talk more about this later…Lizbeth…you know…you know I love you?”

She stood up on the railing of the deck to bring her to his height, and placed a loving kiss on his cheek.

“I know. I love you too Giles.”

Chapter 16:

Sunday, December 26

Faith squirmed in her chair in Mr. O’Connor’s outer office. She was nervous- as a general rule, employees didn’t ask for meetings with the boss, he asked for a meeting with you, and until such a time, you did your job. She knew the meeting could go two ways- he would listen to her and judge her position reasonable, or he could destroy her- crush her like a bug. It was a risky venture to request the meeting, never mind to accuse his son of attempted rape and threaten a walk out. But it was the best option available to them and depending on the boss’s mood, one likely to work- if she was able to put the whole ‘bad for business’ spin on the situation. If Mr. O’Connor could be swayed by anything, business was it.

“Good morning, Faith,” Mr. O’Connor spoke as he swept through the office. “Join me in my office.”

Faith nodded, gathering her bag as she stood, following him into his office.

“Please have a seat, drink?”

“Um thanks, I’m fine.”

He sat down behind his desk, shuffling papers. “So, what can I do for you so early on a Sunday morning?” He eyed her expectantly.

She fished around in her bag, retrieving a large envelope and slid it towards him, across the large expanse of his desk.

“Well sir, we have a slight problem.”

He opened the envelope, allowing the contents to slide on to his desk. His expression did not change as he perused its contents. Replacing the contents in the envelope, he spoke quietly. “Did Angel do this?”

Faith nodded affirmatively.

“How is Ms. Summers?”

“Bruised ribs, sore…but she’ll live.”

“Why are you here?”

“Sir, the girls- well…Angel is bad for business sir. Angel attacked her twice the same week. The girls have decided not to come back unless he’s banned from all contact with the girls- and the bar. As a successful businessman, I’m sure you can appreciate the problem we have here. To close the bar now, well, we would lose a lot of money, but the girls are afraid. I understand this is a difficult position for you, but they won’t come back if he’s allowed anywhere near them- and we couldn’t possibly replace them in time for New Year’s Eve.”

“So you came here to threaten me?”

She gulped nervously. “Well, I wouldn’t use the word threaten exactly…” her voice trailed off.

“Really? What word would you choose?” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Appealing to your business sense?”

“So you’re doing me a favor then?”

“Well…I suppose we could think of it that way. We both want the club to do well, but Angel’s behavior has resulted in a situation that could become an impediment to its future success.”

“Relax Faith, you’ve made your case.” He pulled a manila envelope from his leather attaché and passed it across the desk to her, then rested on his elbows as she opened it. “I am sure you’ll agree that Angel will no longer be a threat to anyone at the club…” He paused as she looked over the contents of the envelope, her eyes widening in horror at the gruesome pictures that had fallen in her lap, her hands shaking as she realized just how lucky Buff had been. “Are you aware of just who that girl is? Of who her father is?”

Faith nodded silently, waiting for him to continue.

“They were engaged. It was to be announced at the New Year’s Eve celebration.”

“I wasn’t aware they were even dating.”

“They weren’t really. They‘ve known each other since they were children, but the marriage was a business deal- merging of our empires. Obviously, that won’t be happening now. Suffice it to say that the word ‘untouchable’ no longer applies to Angel. I can’t protect him. If he remains in Vegas, he’ll be dead by the end of the week. So there’s no reason to close the club.”

“No sir.”

“So…how is the band experiment working out?”

“Pretty well actually…our numbers are up, the regulars love them.”

“I want them to play at the New Year’s celebration, at the MGM Grand, from 10-11. During that, I’d like the Coyote’s to work the bar, as a promotional event. I’m thinking we should cut a CD this week to sell at the party. The club would get 10% over production costs- the rest would go to the band. Think you can work out the details?”

She nodded. “I believe so.”

“Good. Now, about Ms. Summers…I will take care of any medical costs.”

“She refused to go to the hospital. She knew they would report the attack to the police,” Faith responded flatly.

“I see. Her grasp of the situation is remarkable, and her loyalty will be rewarded.”

“Sir, I don’t think…”

He cut her off. “It will be handled in such a way that the reward will not be linked to the attack. I appreciate that handing her a check after what my son did would be an unspeakable insult, and that she would likely refuse the gesture. Nonetheless, I am aware of the struggles she has faced, with her mother’s death and the absence of her father and I am loath to think my son has made her life more difficult in any way.”

“I understand sir. I’ll get the band in the studio as soon as possible, and get the girls ready for Friday night.”

“Very well, I will expect an update mid-week.”

“Yes sir…” she replied, and excused herself from his office.

~*~*~*~

“Buffy, luv? We need to get up.” She groaned and stretched languidly, pressing her back into his chest.

“I don’t wanna,” she protested in a tired voice.

“Luv, Faith is back. She’s got news.”

She turned gingerly to face him and sighed softly as he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. She tilted her head toward him. “Mmm, need more kisses.”

“Kisses, eh?”

“Definitely...” His lips descended on hers, sucking gently on her full bottom lip. His tongue darted out to trace it, before dipping further between her open lips to brush softly against hers, as her hand snaked around his neck to pull him closer.

She snuggled nearer to him, desperate for more contact. The hand he had rested against her hip pulled her closer to him, as he slipped a knee between her thighs, brushing slightly against the thin fabric of her yoga pants.

“Mmm, did I tell you how much I like my Christmas present?” she mumbled, referring to the lavender silk sheets now covering her bed. “Very sexy...I don’t think we have properly appreciated them yet though,” she pouted.

“Naughty girl, teasing Spike. You aren’t well.”

She nipped at his neck, teasing the warm flesh with her tongue before sucking on the hollow of his neck.

“You taste good.” Her hands moved under the fabric of his shirt, brushing across the taunt muscles, which rippled under her touch.

“Buffy, we need to get up.” She pressed into his thigh, rubbing against it and mewled, intent on distracting him.

“In a minute- have other plans,” she mumbled as she pushed him on to his back, pushing his shirt up to expose his flesh. “Hmmm this is better…” her tongue flicked out to taste him.

“Cor, you’re making me crazy,” his voice was ragged with desire.

“Crazy? Hmm, I like you crazy.” She moved lower, her tongue dipping into his navel, eliciting another moan from him. “Ooh, you like that?” She smiled, pressing her tongue into the indentation again, causing him to squirm under her touch. Her hands fluttered around the waistband of his pants, loosening the drawstring and tugging them lower on his hips. She snickered as his penis sprung free from its confines, bouncing under his navel. “What do we have here? Maybe I should have a little taste?”

He groaned again as her hand closed tightly around him, drawing him closer to her mouth. She ran her tongue along the ridge defining the boundary of the head before sucking him into her mouth, then further down her throat.

“Oh God! Buffy.” She smiled, the affect on him giving her a heady rush, spurring her to determine what other sounds she could elicit from him. She nestled between his legs, sliding against the slick fabric of the sheets, running her hands along the smoothness of his thighs, mentally comparing the texture of him and the luxurious fabric.

He watched her head move up and down on him through hooded lids, winding one hand through her silken tresses, quickly losing himself in her ministrations.

His hips thrust up to meet her involuntarily, drawing him closer to the edge. The sight of her mouth stretched around his girth was quickly becoming more than he could bear, as he felt the familiar tightness in his groin. He growled out a “Luv, stop!” She looked up at him; face flushed and eyes heavy with desire. He struggled to catch his breath, then spoke again, his voice now low and gritty, laced with barely constrained lust. He sat up quickly, pulling her to him - catching her mouth in a demanding kiss, sliding his tongue over hers, teasing her before moving on to attack her neck. His hands found the edge of her shirt and quickly divested her of it. Smiling as his mouth descending to the golden flesh of her breast, he licked the brown bud to attention, before sucking it hard into his mouth and nipping it with his teeth. He laughed softly as she screamed his name in pleasure. Growing impatient, she tugged at her pants and thong, pushing them to her knees. Rising up she slid them off, while his mouth worked feverishly at her chest, driving her to madness.

“Pet,” he mumbled against her heaving breast, trailing kisses as his lips glided across the valley between them, teasing her as he slowly descended on the neglected twin to lavish it with the same attention. “What do you want?”

She straddled his thighs, positioning herself over his length - slowly descending on him, sucking in a sharp breath as she lost herself in the sensation of him stretching her, filling her. “Only you, Spike. Always you…” she whispered as she rocked against him.

~*~*~*~

“Hey Wills, has Buffy come down yet?” Xander rummaged through the fridge searching for a snack.

“No, Spike is supposed to be waking her up.”

“Oh good-god-batman…why didn’t someone tell me? I could be watching the game…”

“Xan, they’ll be down in a minute,” Willow protested.

“Aw, young Willow. So sweet.., so naïve… so innocent. They are alone…they were supposed to meet us while you were gone…they were AT LEAST 45 minutes late…they SO will NOT be down in a few minutes. 20 bucks says it will be at least an hour.”

“Fine! You’re on Mister-Smarty-Man!”

“Ooh I want in… I’ll take an hour and ten minutes,” Oz piped up, throwing a twenty on the bar.

“What are we betting on?” Anya asked as she breezed through the kitchen.

“Basically, how long before Spike and Buffy emerge. He’s supposed to be waking her up. I say 15 minutes, Xander says an hour, and Oz is taking an hour and ten minutes.”

“Ooh, I’m in. I’ll take 45 minutes.” Anya grinned as she threw her money in to the pile. “I love Vegas!” she exclaimed as she grabbed a notebook and pen and set off through the house to take the bets of the others.

~*~*~*~

Spike twirled an errant golden lock of hair around his fingers, as Buffy’s fingers drew invisible patterns along his hip. The cool air of the room colliding with her post-coital warmed flesh caused her to shiver against him. He untangled his hand from her hair and retrieved the bedclothes from the floor, pulling the lush fabrics over them, cocooning their warmth, resulting in a contented sigh from the gorgeous blonde resting on his chest.

“Pet?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“We are going to have to get up, people are waiting for us.”

“I don’t want to get up.”

“Tell you what… we’ll go downstairs, make an appearance, then we can come back to bed for as long as you like.”

She contemplated that for a minute. “As long as I like?”

He smirked at her insinuation as he lowered his face to hers, sucking her lips into a mind blowing kiss.

“As long as you like, pet.”

“Ok… deal.” Her hand snaked its way between his thighs to brush lightly over his groin before she cupped it firmly, feeling him harden instantly in her hand.

“Buffy, I thought we decided we were getting up. We will play more later.” He tried to sound rational, but all elements of reason were swiftly fleeing his brain as she stroked him to the brink of insanity, whilst her mouth worked its own magic on his throat and chest.

She eyed him coyly, “Do you want me to stop? Naked woman, all warm and wanting. Touching you, kissing you. Completely undone, aching for your touch.” She slid over him, covering him with her body, stifling his reply with her mouth, kissing him, effectively communicating that she was in no way ready to go down stairs. “Do you really want to get up now?”

He groaned under her. Unable to resist her persuasion, he thrust up, filling her, laughing softly at her expression of surprise and then immediate pleasure. “I’m up all ready, luv.” He snickered as he rolled her over on her back, thrusting gently against her, driving them closer to the brink of ecstasy. He twisted his hips with each thrust, sending shock waves of pleasure coursing through her as he simultaneously hit her g-spot and clit. He watched her face intently as he pushed her closer to the edge.

“Is this what you wanted?… Look at me, pet. I want you to look at me when you come….” She struggled to keep her eyes open, desperately wanting to close them and enjoy the sensations he was giving her and the sound of his voice. “You are so beautiful like this, so sexy. The way you bite your bottom lip when you are about to come, the way your neck arches up.” He smiled as she unconsciously stretched her neck toward him. He greedily took the offering, sucking and nipping the graceful expanse. He felt her muscles tighten around him. He quickened his pace to meet her. Lowering his head to her breast he sucked a dark bud into his mouth, sending her crashing over the edge - following her as her muscles clenching and releasing around him blinded him with sensations of pleasure and finally release.

~*~*~*~

“Hey guys!” Buffy called out to her friends as she made her way purposefully to the refrigerator.

“An hour and 30 minutes, An… who had that?”

Anya flipped through her notebook, “Damn, Giles!… here’s your money you limey bastard!”

“Who’s a limey bastard?” Spike grinned as he wrapped his arms around Buffy’s waist, distracting her from her sandwich making. She turned to face him, intent on admonishing him for his folly, but he caught her lips with his own and plundered her mouth with his tongue.

“Ok… I’d say get a room… but we have been waiting for an hour and a half already… God knows how long you would be gone… and I am out of money!” Xander ranted, effectively ending the smoochie fest in the kitchen.

“Xander, what exactly are you taking about?”

Anya cheerfully explained, “We took bets on how long it would take you to get down here.” She threw Willow an exasperated glance, “Willow started it, she said you would be down in 15 minutes.” Spike choked and sputtered on his drink, followed by a ‘NOT BLOODY LIKELY’.

“Ok, wait a minute!” Willow sputtered, trying to defend herself. “ I was working on the assumption that you wouldn’t do that knowing we were all down here waiting for you.”

Buffy stood listening to the exchanges of her friends, and Spike’s smug claims of his prowess. She positioned herself in front of Spike, and leaned back against his chest, smiling as his arms automatically enveloped her in his embrace.

“Buffy?”

“Sorry, what did you ask Will?”

“Can we start now? You know, late already? Bet? Your fault?”

She tilted her head slightly so she could see Spike’s face, and pressed a quick kiss to his neck, ready to go back upstairs and spend eternity in his arms.

“Sorry to put you all out. But you know how it is… after so long… then it’s so good… and Spike… well… so talented… I just couldn’t help myself.”

“I know exactly what you mean…” Anya began, “Ok, well not the ‘after so long part’ but the so talented… can’t help yourself part!”

“Could we please change the subject? I have visuals now. Visuals of my sister/friend having sex. IT is disturbing… want to think about other things. Please. Now. Anything.”

“Xander’s right,” Giles muttered, earning a head snap in his direction from everyone in the room, “enough on the subject, lets have our little meeting and move on… I have plans to go spend your money later,” he finished smugly.

~*~*~*~

The group sat in stunned silence, each trying to process Faith’s recollection of her meeting with Mr. O’Conner.

Buffy was the first to break the silence, “So Angel…”

Faith nodded in response to her unspoken question, “Dead man walking pretty much sums it up.”

Buffy shuddered as the full meaning of her words sunk in, she wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved or sad or vindicated. Spike squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her that everything was working out.

Oz spoke next, “The last part, about us cutting a CD? Is that legit?”

“Absolutely, he wants it ready for the New Year’s Eve party. So you guys basically have today to decide what you want to put on the CD. We have the studio all day tomorrow. It will be a long day, but the benefits…”

“This is surreal.” Mike looked at his fellow band mates, for confirmation that he indeed understood everything he had just heard.

“We need to get Jonathan back, we need to rehearse,” Spike spoke quietly. He too was conflicted. A part of him hated the idea of being away from Buffy- knowing she had to be reeling from the news, while the other part of him was insanely happy at the opportunity they had just been offered.

“Ok, so you guys need to get together today. Rehearse, make a list of songs for the CD. Plus, I need you at the club for your shift tonight by 9,” Faith stated matter-of-factly. “And I need to get someone to cover for Buffy tonight.”

“I can work. You don’t need to worry about finding someone else.”

Spike poked at her sore ribs, causing her to wince in pain, “Don’t think so, luv. Better take the night off.”

She scowled at him.

“He’s right, B. You’re off the roster tonight. I need you well by Saturday, so enjoy the extra time off.”

“I’ll do it,” Tara spoke quietly.

“Really?” Faith answered, her surprise evident.

“Sure, it’ll be fun.”

Buffy pouted at Spike, “What will I do?”

Giles interrupted, “Lizbeth, you could join me for dinner, we could continue our discussion from last night…”

Buffy perked up at Giles’ suggestion, “That sounds great! Perfect actually. Afterwards, we could swing by the club and catch the last set.”

“Great, all settled then.” Giles smiled conspiratorially at her as she snuggled contentedly against the stunning bleach-blonde next to her.

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